


This Old Monster

by impossiblewanderings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: I blame tumblr for this, a little ficlet about fireworks, and its opposite, and trust, sheep boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblewanderings/pseuds/impossiblewanderings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David reaches out, and the Dark One flinches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Old Monster

David reaches out, and the Dark One flinches, _Rumplestiltskin_ is _flinching_ from him, but it isn’t really him, is it, this short man with the damaged leg and the hollows beneath his dark, dark eyes. This is someone far older, the face behind the monster, before it.

His fingers brush against the other man’s face, the faintest touch on the cobweb of lines by his eye, and then his wrist is seized, the bones grinding and bending in his arm as Gold jerks his head out of reach.

“What are you _doing_?” He hisses, and David smells fireworks.

* * *

 

_He remembers watching, breathless with excitement, the pain cresting in his chest as the sparks bloomed in the sky, and the stars hung above in a sky of velvet. He was very young, and he was sitting in a field with the sheep huddled in the corner, bleating in fright at the colour and the fierceness of those explosions tearing apart the night’s peace. They were not meant for David, those brilliant lights, but for the people in the white castle that squatted over their little piece of land. But they couldn’t own the fireworks once they were loosed, they were for anyone to look at, even for poor shepherd boys who had to look at the ground when the lords and ladies went past in their fine carriages. There was dirt under his fingernails, and grass tickling his arms and bare legs, and he was filled with a simple, victorious delight that night, a fullness, a wild joy he hasn’t felt since, not even with Snow._

_There was an echo of it, the day the man with the scales came to their farm. The creature japed and tricked and flirted, and all the while the scent of black powder rose from his clothes, from the lines of his skin, the smell of smoke and sparks and a sudden, explosive heat. David assumed it was magic he had smelt that day, years ago._

_He was wrong._

* * *

 

David looks Rumplestiltskin in the eyes, and wiggles his crushed fingers, fast losing their colour in the pawnbroker’s grip.

“Would you stop? I’m not trying to hurt you.”

The sorcerer scoffs and releases David’s hand, but he continues to watch with a feral wariness as David’s hand ghosts along the curve of his jaw, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone under the worn skin.

David huffs out a laugh, and daringly, he pauses a moment on Gold’s pulse, thrumming like the heart of a trapped bird.

“It’s so strange…” He murmurs, and Gold bares his teeth at him.

“What is?”

“Seeing you like this. You know, I always thought you were a dragon? A dragon under a curse from an evil witch, or a forest hermit…I used to wonder what your story was.”

“Well, I was certainly never a dragon, Charming.”

And the fool grins at him, a boyish, innocent smile that turns his eyes to a royal, high summer blue, and Gold backs off out of reach of his hands. His heart is banging against his ribs, and he doesn’t understand why this boy, this golden prince, could find his weary, ugly form of such interest, how he could touch what Gold can barely stand to see in the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a photoset on Tumblr. I hadn't thought about slashing them until then.


End file.
